


you're not here (when i close my eyes)

by alongwinter



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2019-01-03 22:21:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alongwinter/pseuds/alongwinter
Summary: “Not here, Buck," Steve whimpered, "Anywhere but here."





	you're not here (when i close my eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first stucky fic, so go easy on me, friends.

Light falls through the blinds with the early morning sun, a soft glow illuminating the dark sheets and soft cotton surrounding him. The room was quiet in the nicest way, their breaths mingling in the air between them. Bucky’s leg was draped around Steve’s hip, holding him in place as if he would disappear at any moment. Their palms lined up, Bucky’s own hand slightly bigger, before he stretched his fingers out and pulled the other hand a bit closer, pressing a delicate kiss to the sensitive flesh there. Steve’s soft exhale stuttered in his chest.

“Do you know where you are?” He asked softly, watching as Bucky’s eyes crinkled in a smile. 

“Of course I do.” 

“What do you see, what do you smell? Tell me anything you can,” his voice cracked, “We’re so close to finding you, but we need you, Buck.”

Bucky hummed, tracing patterns on Steve’s arm before inhaling deeply, smelling the room around him. He could feel eyes on him as he looked around, taking in the details with a creased brow. 

“I hear the wind,” Bucky began, smirking softly, “I can smell your laundry detergent, and you. I love being surrounded by you.”

He moved, hovering over Steve with hands on either sides of his head, leaning his head down to press a soft kiss on his lips. Pulling back, he looked down in awe once more before nuzzling Steve’s nose, “Oh, Stevie.”

Steve sighed, his hands coming up to wrap around Bucky’s neck, playing with the hair at the nape affectionately. 

“Not here, Buck,” he whimpered “Anywhere but here.”

* * *

It’s dark, and he’s been pumped full of things and chemicals he will never understand. He doesn’t want to, honest. The air is cold, the metal even colder as it digs into his back unforgivingly. He sees nothing, hears nothing but the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears. They’ll be back soon, he knows it, can feel it in his soul. Hydra had nothing on these people, not when it comes to pain. Every time they come, he tries to count the bodies, distinguish them somehow. 

He loses count at five before falling back into nothing. So much for an assassin past.

It’s so fucked,  _ so fucked _ , and all he wants is to go home, back to that stupid tower and that stupid voice in the ceiling and god, he misses his mother. He misses her warmth, silently crying out as he mourns for the millionth time. He curses everyone, but thanks them as he knows she rests easy thinking he was a hero, something good for once. 

He’s a hundred years old and he weeps for lives lost and love undiscovered. 

* * *

 

“You’re not in New York anymore, not even D.C.,” Steve began, running his fingers up and down Bucky’s back as he lay there, pliant and stated from the contact, “We’re looking for a trail. Natasha thinks she found one, but it's circumstantial. Everything is fuckin’ circumstantial.” 

Bucky leans back, looking down at Steve’s chest before running a hand up his abdomen softly, tweaking a nipple on his way up. His hands cradled his jaw softly, thumb rubbing affectionate circles in his cheek as he kissed him, his tongue running along his bottom lip. Kissing his way back down his body, he pressed a hot, open-mouthed pant into Steve’s hip bone, groaning. Bucky pressed his dick down into the mattress, letting off some of the ache before he looked up at him, letting loose a dazzling smile. 

“You should be naked all the time, always and forever.” 

“Focus, Bucky,” Steve reprimanded, moaning as hands wrapped around his cock, “We need you to focus on this.”

“Trust me, I am,” Bucky laughed against his hip. 

He looked down curiously, “You’re happy here, aren’t you?”

“I’m happy where you are, Stevie. You know this.”

“You haven’t been this happy since we were kids and I made that special pie you liked so much. That was before you went to war, Buck.”

“Sweetheart, I was happy that you went through so much trouble for me, I know berries ain’t cheap. I was giddy that you even cared.” 

Steve laughed softly, his belly tightening against Bucky’s face. He smiled at the sight, loving Steve this relaxed, despite the nonsense he was talking before. 

“I love you,” he whispered, hiding his face is pale skin. 

Steve’s laugh died down, his voice and face turning as soft as the sheets, “You love me?” 

Bucky snorted, “I’ve loved you since we were kids, Stevie. That ain’t ever gon’a change.”

Tears gathered in Steve’s eyes, his face turning to hide in the pillow. He drew in shaky breaths, trying to stifle the incoming sobs. Biting his lip, he sat up suddenly, grabbing Bucky’s face and bringing it close to his. He pressed their foreheads together, desperate to never let go. 

“Don’t you give up on me, James Barnes. We’re coming for you, don’t you dare let go.”

* * *

He thinks he’s been in pain for a while now. His voice is long gone, the screams vibrating his larynx without a sound. His wrists and ankles have chafed in the restraints, his skin raw and blistered. No matter how fast he heals, the trembles of malnourishment and pain reopen the wounds every time. Physical ones, or otherwise. 

He wants to beg for it, beg for the darkness to envelop him forever. He hasn’t prayed since he was young and deep in the trenches of gun fire and smoke. His helmet was too big for his head then, always clunking down into his eyes as he begged a jumbled mess of  _ please let me go home  _ and  _ who will love him when i’m gone _ . He won’t pray now, knowing it’s as pointless now as it was then. 

Soon, he promises himself, he’ll beg for it and they’ll listen. They’re always listening, watching, knowing. He’ll be gone for good soon; his death only about seventy years overdue. There’s so many things he wanted to do with his second chance at life, especially in a modern world. He wanted to see the Grand Canyon, hike up Mount Everest, see Niagara Falls, travel the world without a target or a mission looming over his shoulder like a threat. So many things he wanted to say disappeared into the wind when they grabbed him, took him right out from under their noses. Right now, though, all he wants is to kiss Steve one more time, to say goodbye. 

He never did that before, either.

* * *

“Oh, fuck, Steve,” Bucky moaned, hands clutching sheets as he fucked himself back on Steve’s cock, “Just a lil more, please baby,  _ oh _ .”

Steve stretched his arm out, reaching for the lube before uncapping it, slicking up his finger. He slid it next to his cock, stretching Bucky’s hole just that much more as he shouted, coming from the stretch and pressure and  _ bliss _ . His hole is slick and tight and  _ so fucking good _ as it pulses against Steve’s cock, milking him for all he’s worth as he comes inside him. Steve’s eyes close tightly as he whimpers, collapsing on Bucky’s back with all his weight. 

Catching their breaths, Steve slides out slowly, groaning as his come follows before falling to the side on dark cotton sheets and pulling Bucky closer to his chest. 

He wishes he could stay here forever, wrapped up in the bliss and calm of Steve. He has no right, not really, not when it comes to this. He’s had more here than he ever had a right to ask for anywhere else. 

“We found you,” Steve says, nuzzling his temple, “I have to go now, okay?” 

Bucky’s eyes tear up, wondering why the universe can’t just cut him some  _ fucking slack  _ for once. His hand reaches up, caressing Steve’s cheek softly as he stares at him with open adoration, something neither of them could have had before, something they would never have at all. Steve had good people now, people who can take care of him like he deserves, something Bucky felt he could never do. 

“Goodbye, Stevie baby.” He leans in closer, lips meeting for one last kiss. 

* * *

 

He knows they’re coming, can hear their light steps as they descend the stairs at the far hall. That’s all he knows anymore, all he anticipates. Tears fall down his face as his breathing picks up, his anger growing as the steps grow nearer.  _ Take care of him _ , he sends off to no one, jaw clenched. He made peace with his demons long ago, in a way. The keypad on the door beeps, the lock unlatching as he takes a deep breath. He closes his eyes, turning his face away from the door. 

“Just fucking do it,” Bucky croaks, meaning to scream but failing, “Just fucking kill me already.” 

He waits for the pain, for the hum of the electricity and the clink of the blades. He waits for anything, everything to come down on him. Instead, he feels gentle calloused hands trace against the back of his own, so soft and familiar. 

“I’m not going to do that, Buck,” Steve chokes out, “I’ve got you now.”

“This isn’t real,” he grits out, teeth mashed together tightly, his tears falling steadily, “This isn’t fucking real.”

“It’s real, sweetheart, I promise, it was all real.” 

“How?” He asks, turning his head finally as Steve unfastens the restraints, breaking them easily. 

“Wanda,” Steve whispers, finishing the last one before tipping Bucky’s face in a kiss. 

“Why are you kissing me? I knew this wasn’t real, it can’t be.”

Steve grabs his chin softly but firmly, forcing him to look into his eyes, “It was all real, Bucky, I promise you. Those days in the apartment, dark sheets and sunlight? I was there for those too, I was there the whole time. It was all real, sweetheart.”

Bucky chokes on his tears, throat tight as he uses the last of his energy to launch himself into Steve's arms and bury himself in his chest. Soft hands run down his back, the beat of Steve's heart thumping wildly against his cheek. He nods into his chest, letting Steve pull him up and take him home. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a sterek fic i read a million years ago. i can't remember the name or find it, unfortunately! but if you've read it and it seems similar, that's why! if you know what i'm talking about and have the link, please let me know so i can credit them for the inspiration.


End file.
